


England's Green and Pleasant Land

by mydogwatson



Series: The Postcard Tales [22]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: John feels lucky, M/M, Marriage, Sherlock pouts and is sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 20:55:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5179304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydogwatson/pseuds/mydogwatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During a train ride, Sherlock is surprisingly sentimental.</p>
            </blockquote>





	England's Green and Pleasant Land

**Author's Note:**

> Sadly, just as my trip to London had to end, so did my postcard scribbling. This is the last in the series. Except…well, more of that in a moment,
> 
> Coincidentally, the posting of the end of the series is also the posting of my 100th Johnlock story. I find that amazing. Even more amazing is the fact that I still have more to say about these guys. Several projects are in the planning stage. In the meantime, I might suggest that if you have enjoyed these but not looked at my other work, you might give it a go. I love every single one of the 100. 
> 
> I will miss your daily kudos and lovely comments. Thank you all for letting me know that you have enjoyed these little indulgences.
> 
> As to Postcards, there is actually one more that positively refused to stay on a postcard and I am working on turning it into a longer piece that will hopefully appear soon. For the curious, it is based on the title Catcher in the Rye.
> 
> Anyway, I will stop rambling now. Just thanks for all the love. Hope you enjoy this finale.

Sherlock was aiming his patented glare out the train window at the green and very pleasant landscape they were racing past as if it had personally offended him. Possibly it had done. He was also sighing once every 104 seconds. John was keeping track, because he had already finished the newspaper.

Occasionally John Watson wondered at the flaw in his own nature that made him love the annoying git so desperately.

He did understand that Sherlock was so entirely a creature of London that he was never comfortable away from the noise and smells and manic activity of the city. So, understanding that, John tried to be sympathetic. But one more sigh might be the one to push the good doctor over the edge. Though he supposed that he ought to be glad that at least Sherlock had stopped loudly deducing their fellow passengers before violence broke out. John could still hear occasional muttering behind them. 

It had taken the very fascinating locked room killing of a local innkeeper, accompanied by the apparent suicide of his wife in the same room, to lure Sherlock out into the countryside. But the fact that he was obviously looking forward to the investigation did not mean he was going to be happy about it. John should have known better than to expect it.

The catering trolley came through right then, so John bought two cups of tea and a KitKat for them to share. Though still sulky, Sherlock at least took his tea and nibbled the candy. As he enjoyed his snack, John glanced out the window and saw a flock of fluffy white sheep on the hillside. Although he knew very well that close up they would not be so white and would smell fairly dreadful, he couldn’t help smiling at the bucolic sight.

“What are you so cheerful about?” Sherlock asked grumpily.

Sometimes John thought he deserved some kind of an award for not having throttled his husband even once in ten years of marriage. Now, he just shrugged. “Nice to be out of the city for a little while,” he said.

Sherlock snorted elegantly, a talent as practised as his glare. “You would go crazy out here, just as I would.”

“Well, now, yes, I suppose we both would get bored pretty quickly,” John agreed. He crumpled the KitKat wrapper and shoved it into the empty cup. “But someday, maybe, it might be nice, don’t you think?”

Sherlock finished his tea, but didn’t say anything.

John tapped his hand. “Unless you plan on us being senior citizen crime fighters. Maybe me with a zimmer frame and you with bifocals.”

Sherlock blinked at him. “Don’t be ridiculous, John. Of course we will retire one day.” He paused and then looked out the window again. It was a surprise when he actually kept talking. “We will buy a small cottage, probably in Sussex. I will raise bees and write my definitive guide to criminal investigation. You will scribble on, as you do, and take our dog for long walks on the Downs. I suppose you might even garden a bit and I will insist on lots of different flowers so that we will have a variety of honeys. You will agree, but also plant cucumbers and aubergines. And strawberries so we can have them with crème while we use a telescope to watch the stars and you can finally teach me about the galaxy. Our bedroom will be on the eastside of the cottage, because you like to wake with the morning sun. I will still never make the tea.”

“Never?” John said, bemused.

Sherlock considered. “Well, unless you are ill.”

John felt as if his chest were suddenly not big enough to hold his heart. It took a moment before he could speak. “You have our future all planned out, do you?”

Sherlock suddenly seemed embarrassed by his show of blatant sentimentality during a train ride to deepest Cornwall. Then he glanced at John, a faint smile touching his lips. “Might have,” he said. “Is that all right?”

John touched Sherlock’s cheek. “That is perfect.”

After a moment, Sherlock shrugged, “Besides, John, the countryside is as rife with crime and murder as the worst of London’s alleyways. I will not be bored.”

My life, John thought helplessly. How did it turn out so perfectly?

“On your birthday,” Sherlock said.

“What about my birthday?

“I will also make tea on your birthday.” Sherlock sounded quite proud of himself.

John laughed aloud. “Thank you,” he said at last. “That will be very nice.”

“Well, I love you,” Sherlock replied.

There was nothing else to be said.

 

*

**Author's Note:**

> Title from: England's Green and Pleasant Land by J.W. Robertson Scott


End file.
